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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25042702">She Sleeps in Beauty</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_This_Wildness/pseuds/All_This_Wildness'>All_This_Wildness</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Walking Dead (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cunnilingus, Daryl is a lolicon, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Extremely Underage, F/M, Mentions of Merle doing Merle things, Oral Sex, Shame Sex, Somnophilia, Underage - Freeform, inspired by the power of friendship, pathetic dick grinding</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:48:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,057</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25042702</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_This_Wildness/pseuds/All_This_Wildness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s watched. He’s waited. The lump in his throat can’t take it any more, and his thirst needs quenching. </p><p>Then she speaks the most beautiful words he’s ever heard.</p><p>—</p><p>Read the tags for warnings for the obvious. Don’t like, don’t read. Someone asked for lolicon Daryl and I have brought you This.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Daryl Dixon/Judith Grimes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>She Sleeps in Beauty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He could live without it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t need it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d been telling himself now, for years. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hours spent at a fletching jig, slipping feathers into arrows and watching as she laughed, as she danced. Normal little girl stuff. Normal, nothing sexy about it. That’s what the masses would say. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It didn’t help his tongue from sliding against the roof of his mouth. Too much saliva, a need to swallow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Around year six or seven, he’d taken to finding some bed of grass in the midnight hours. Wherever he’d made his actual sleeping arrangements...it was quickly abandoned, for some treetop height or a mossy clime, whereupon he could free himself. Whereupon he could fist his hand around a throbbing cock, wrench himself with desperation, ofttimes forgetting to spit into his palm beforehand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thinking of her small, thinking of her tight, thinking of how the blush that spread over her cheeks when she stomped and pouted had to extend to those buds on her chest, the flanks of her thighs, the sweet pair of nether lips below fringed in nothing but Georgia peach fuzz. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Naked as the day she was born. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Daryl’s head thumped against the wooden wall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sure, whatever parentage he might have had growing up...would have seen these thoughts as less-than-godly. God had snuck through the screen door out back a long time ago though, and without much exaltation or trumpeting. And so these thoughts, these...</span>
  <b>temptations</b>
  <span> swam and surged in every pocket of his mind, til he spilled his seed on the earth, wanting to howl and scream at the fucking moon, but also with a shred of sanity that kept him from alerting the walkers for miles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t do that to them. Couldn’t do that to </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Not after everything. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Especially not after her honeyed words. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’d been the week previous. A simple scuffle had led to playground talk, had led to little Judith “Ass-Kicker” Grimes with her hands on her hips and prepared to make a lion’s statement out of a lamb’s velvet mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though Daryl had grown up with his childhood largely ripped out of his spine and hung to dry, he knew kids said shit and didn’t mean it, maybe didn’t understand it—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it didn’t rip away the weight, the delicious gush of something in his guts when she’d hiked her little thumb over her shoulder, in his direction, and declared with what could only be considered juvenile boldness:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Say it to my boyfriend!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Said with the same stubborn conviction that Rick himself employed, the haughty arrogance difficult to misplace. A voice too small. Implications too big for her little heart to know. Sure, they were tight, two peas in a pod. Uncle Daryl. Uncle. He repeated it in his head to try and stave off the thoughts that rose, unbidden, at the implications. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Boyfriend. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knew it’d been a childhood spat, a girl trying to look the adult. He wasn’t stupid. Who she’d been arguing with didn’t matter. But the word made him want to pin her, to steal her breath away, and show her what becoming a woman could mean, the tip of him rutted up against a too-small snatch decorated with a growing pearl. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Boyfriend</em>
  </b>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He swallowed. He shuddered. The hand already buried in his jeans grasped tight at the root of his leaking, pathetic erection. Not pathetic for his size (Merle had jokingly called him fit for horses on more than one occasion when they’d been forcibly compared), but for the wanton lust of his friend’s child. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dixon didn’t understand it. He didn’t want to. He’d be shot on sight for even suggesting being meant for anyone so small and new. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But...boyfriend. If she could joke about it, if she could say the word and still kiss him on the cheek...maybe his redneck ass wasn’t as repugnant as what’d been beaten into him. The fixation wouldn’t leave. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rick and Michonne? Did a fine job looking after her, but with a single word, a title, like...a </span>
  <b>knight</b>
  <span>, he feels the urge to save her. To know her. Princess. Queen. He ain’t a leader. In spite of it all, in spite of Rick’s faith. He was made to be subservient, deplorable. A mangy footstool suited him best. That’s what they said. That’s what they mean. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Which was why this visit was so damn hard, coinciding with the wretched state of his goddamn dick. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t need this. But he did need to check on her. That was part of what brought the erection along in the first place...Daryl had promised he would. So they could sleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he would. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She never woke up anyway, when he poked his nose around. When he stood in the doorway. With his hand fisted around...whatever. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A good boyfriend would check up on his girl. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hunter rose laboriously, and shuffled away, duty to do. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And found her. And stared. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blue eyes drank her in. He forgot to breathe. Cherubic, wreathed in moonlight. Summer was upon them, and she’d gotten warm enough to cast the blankets she’d been swathed in aside in the throes of dreams and slumber. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t as bad as his earlier ruminations; by God’s good grace, it was worse. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The previous mentioned buds soon to be luscious little breasts, the soft rise and fall of her chest. Easy breath. Relaxed. He liked that—it meant she trusted him. Her whole body trusted him, even when she wasn’t awake to say it. The air at large pumped from the flat plane of her belly, smooth but fed, rising and falling in perfect, unmitigated confidence, strands of brushed-out brunette hair framed against her pillow, the single braid tucked behind her left ear. The sheet covered nothing but the small curve of her shoulder, and so, her legs were on view as well, tossed gently to one side. The part of her he treasured, the part that made him sick with guilt and hunger, shrouded in nothing but light yellow fabric, covered in flowers, panties he’d seen out on the laundry line more than once before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gripped himself again. Yeah, he’d had the decency to fasten his jeans back up. So it was through the denim. Necessary, to keep himself from going further. Right?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A breeze teased the window. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her hips angled, as she sighed. Her leg slid away, and he swore he could see the imprint of tiny lips amongst a field of sunflowers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She wanted him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Daryl could have moaned. Could have screamed. Fuck. She knew him in the dark, knew his visits, in a simple parting of thighs. And who was he to deny her? Who was he, to swallow down his own satisfaction, and leave her wanting?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something in him finally ticked past the starting mark, and into full bloom. He’d crossed the threshold. And so did his feet, scuffing quietly across the floor, the door clicked shut with utmost caution. This simple bedroom could be just as wild as the woods, if he let it. The air tasted the same, betrayed his intent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Judith didn’t move when he alighted on the bed, when he sat at her small feet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a moment, he forgot movement itself. It was the moonlight, a soft girl, and her boyfriend-uncle, rolling his palm over the thickness of his engorged cock, jeans undone once again. Skin to skin. He needed fucking skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slow, he positioned himself between her legs. It was difficult to maintain any control, as he pressed on a flank, the inner plane of one of those little legs, and with pressure, so it turned, so it parted, so it was that he found her spread, panties straining at flesh he knew was perfect, untainted. Virgin. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>That thought, that singular notion, it nearly ruined him. Nearly dragged a moan from what depths he possessed, from the gut and core that rose up above his throbbing dick. Yet, as much as he hungered for that little body, to denature it, to swallow its little sunflower and feel it burn within him...he couldn’t bury himself in her. No, not yet. For one thing, only the tip would squeeze in such a space. No. He’d be a proper gentleman. He’d service her like the man she deserved. A real boyfriend. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Her</span>
  </em>
  <span> boyfriend.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>How Daryl managed to keep drool from dripping from his bottom lip like a slavering dog was beyond him. He mustered it somehow. And with hands approaching girl with more fervor than he’d ever sought out any flesh before. Holiest of holies, more blessed than that bitch Mary that he’d been forced to in prayer. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>And God, was she gilded in delicate hair, lovely and soft in the moonlight as he found her, and was she perfect in every way. Lips too little, too sacred to drip with wanton lust.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>She could learn. He could wet her down. He knew just how.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>That fabric was carefully tugged away. There was some pleasure, and some disappointment, in how Judith didn’t stir beyond a singular wiggle and slight kick of a leg. Relief flooded his wracked nerves and cooled his singed, sweating skin. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Yet...maybe he wanted her singing him soft praises.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Maybe.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Dixon didn’t waste too much time on the thought. He left her underwear about one ankle, and slow, with careful hands normally steeped in death, dragged thumbs along her inner thighs, enjoyed velvet and silk a moment, before his fingers gently plied her apart.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Perfect romance in the parting of a mouth untouched, a part of her seldom seen, never used, pink and flush and pretty.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He kissed her. He kissed her, and thought, in the maelstrom of his febrile mind, that perhaps it was sad and piteous that his first kiss with her had to be in secret, during her slumber, and upon a part of her that he knew damn well he shouldn’t be having relations with. But there was a shift. A pulse to her. Maybe his whiskers had brushed her flesh, but lithe legs spread further, and he found himself invited to kiss again. And again.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>So he did.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>And with each impelling push of his rotten mouth, he was soothed. He was safe. He was home, and indeed entangled in bliss, a haven he’d dreamt of so many times and nearly wept from shame afterward.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Heathen tongue emerged, and swept over her smoothness. Parted her. Partook of her. Salty and sweet and beginning to perfume with her own hint of scent, even at her tender age, something he’d willingly grow drunk upon, faster and with more gratitude than any liquor that had touched his tongue. Lucky was the sod that sipped from the pond, and hers had only begun to spill over. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Repetition seemed to be the item of the hour, and with each movement, with each swipe of him, he grew in appetite. A man starved too long tended to respond to desperation, as did a boy in the woods for years and years. Now, he would feast.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Down, his hips pressed, without him even cognating the motion. He ground his leaking sex against the bed. The stains could be blamed elsewhere. It would be fine. He would be fine. And she would--</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>The gasp caught him by surprise.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He froze, and knew eyes were upon him, eyes that danced with calculation like her father’s, caring like her mother’s, defiance like her brother’s. Eyes he’d longed to taste as well, in spite of the impossibility. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Something ragged came from the archer, and he prayed that the rest of the house didn’t hear.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Slowly, he looked up, met her gaze. Saw her question. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t let people touch you. Scream if you have to.</span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>That was what they taught kids. Normal kids. Would she be the same? Would she be his princess or prey? How would Rick snare him without even being present?</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>In some attempt to alleviate the possibility, he sat just partway up, rising to an elbow, and quickly pressed a finger to his lips.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>She said nothing in response, but he loved little Judy even more for the way her brows furrowed over her wide, wide eyes, for how, though initially she’d wanted to clench her thighs and block his access, she let her legs fall away again. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>She understood. Every signal said so, and he lowered his finger to draw a line down her sex, to roll lazy circles against an entrance more dangerous than any house he’d ever raided lay. Never did he breach her with that digit, even as her mouth opened to say something, but was silenced by her faux beau’s mouth covering the mound of her once more.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Voracious now, he suckled the bud above as he teased the hole below. And when that hole </span>
  <b>twitched</b>
  <span>--</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He nearly lost his mind.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Nearly lifted to drag his swollen cock inside to feel that pulse on more suitable parts.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Daryl resisted and bore the torture; he instead slipped her legs over her shoulders, and hoisted her partway. Leaning her back onto her shoulders, he clapped one hand over her mouth, a hand he’d doggedly apologize for later, to keep their tryst choked down to minimum noise. For her safety. For her.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Keeping her hips hoisted, he repositioned his wanton mouth, and instead found her virginity with his tongue.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>In it went.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Now, he’d be good. He’d wait for her to be ready for the rest of him. But for now, he’d swallow this. He’d lick deep inside her, please nerves his baby girl hadn’t known she possessed, make her fluttery and soft and </span>
  <em>
    <span>dripping</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And she was so small, so tight, so sublime, that, for a moment, he considered that his wet muscle could shove in deep enough to taste the little bud, the ripening womb that could someday drink in his seed. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Would Grimes let him have that? </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Did he need his permission?</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>As he met her eyes, scared, as he felt her squirm, felt her pussy pulse on the alien intrusion, on his hungry organ, as he heard her whine…</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>No. He didn’t. He needed hers. And there was…a way of getting that. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Dixon brought Judith back down to the bed, stroking her lips above with his hand and then releasing her mouth after pressing a single finger against it to gesture for some quiet, deciding it was worth chancing daddy’s wrath for just a few of those little sounds, whether they be sobs or moans.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Uncle D--...that’s…” Incomplete sentences. In his experience, gibberish was good. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>She needed him.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He fucked her with his eyes almost as much as his mouth, lapped her juices, made her sweet. A woman. She was his woman, and she was going to say it, sooner or later. She’d claimed him. He’d claim her. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Again, his hips set to rolling against the bed, humping like a high school freshman as he ate her out, impossibly small and wanton, tasting flowers on his lips.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Judith seemed to take him to heart, trusting him as she did and as she was meant to. One hand clutched in his hair as an anchor point, and her little hiccups, the sharp noises she was unable to keep away danced through silvery air like sweetest music. How could he ever be worthy?</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>The rhythm changed when he brought his hand to her. As much as he’d love to continue this dance, to drag it out, to roll her through the waves again and again...much as his solo sessions had been, this needed to be short. It was an unfortunate fact of their world. So his thumb found the little floret of her clit, something likely only considered with curiosity. He toyed with it, rolled the large digit around it, rubbed it, all motions concerned with finding just the right frequency to pull her under.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>It took time. It took precious seconds, and he found that the relaxation he’d sunk himself into was quickly abating, replaced with a tension that frightened him.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>But soon, she was purring, practically, melting, her braids back over her shoulders, her chest heaving. The heat in his mouth sustained him, and he’d remember this, he’d relish this when he was stuck in another canopy keeping watch over their merry band.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Her cunt quivered. It quaked. And when her eyes went wider, and her mouth opened to deliver a cry that quickly muffled into her palms…</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>She snapped so tight. Nothing compared. And though she wasn’t wrapped around his sex, he came with her, making him stutter and choke into her sex. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>She was perfect. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Not once did he stop. Though his cock quickly emptied in the aforementioned becoming-stain, she stayed quivering against his lips, squirming, enough to make him grasp her hips in a grip that was nearly too much. He let her ride it out, pistoning his tongue in and out of her lovely pussy, his teeth teasing her lips perhaps a bit too much, if the way one foot kicked into his shoulder was any indication. Yet she remained wrapped around him like a wedding ring.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He lifted after some time, released her from his palms, and was met with…</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Terror.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Maybe she’d forgive him. Maybe she’d scream.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>It was hard to say, in the pulse between them, in the shared bond that zapped with electricity from one to the other, that they’d shared from day one, when she was tiny and squalling in his too-big arms.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>But when her hands retreated, before she could ask a singular damn thing, he kissed her.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Lower lips first, upper now. More tender than the crushing grapple he’d kept with the girl through her first orgasm. If she tasted something...he hoped it was both of them, mingled. Merged.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Dixon still didn’t give her time to ask anything. Didn’t whisper an apology, but maybe there was one in his blue droopy hound’s eyes, as he watched her face for a solemn moment, then left her bathed in moon, panties around her ankle, his spit slick on a trembling slit. They could suss it through when noise could be made. Or he’d be shot in the dick before the dawn came.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Either way...he knew he was one hell of a boyfriend. And she deserved one hell of a boyfriend.</span>
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